Angela Mollard: Is mince meat the greatest equaliser of cooking?

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There’s nothing you can’t make with it, it’s near impossible to screw up, and it’s proven itself to be one of our most-loved items of isolation. So is mince meat the MVP of foodies, asks Angela Mollard.

I’m ashamed to say it but I benchmark my groceries against the next person in the queue at the checkout.

If their trolley is groaning under a carton of Coca-Cola, a dozen bags of Doritos and a family pack of frozen party pies, I feel instantly superior. If it’s a glamazon in her activewear with a bunch of kale, a head of celery (who eats a whole one?), flaxseed and those protein balls which taste like cat litter (I haven’t tried cat litter, just imagining), I vow to do better. But only after I’ve eaten the ice cream already tucked in my trolley.

Anyway, the other day I bumped into my friend Simon in the supermarket and because it is once again acceptable to have a quick chat – from a distance of course – I checked out his trolley.

Now, Simon is a very successful man. He makes TV shows and has a lovely house and drinks much fancier wine than I can afford. Which is why I was surprised he had Coles 3 Star Regular Beef Mince in his trolley.

Nothing about Simon is 3 Star.

But that’s the thing about mince isn’t it? It’s the great equaliser. I can’t think of any other food stuff that is so universally embraced and boasts such chameleon qualities as ground beef. Or pork. Or chicken. Or veal, if that’s your persuasion.

Camera IconPlenty of people like to judge others by what they spy in their shopping trolley. Credit: Supplied

Whether you’re making Nigella Lawson’s fabulous Middle Eastern Beef and Eggplant Fatteh, which is a sort of posh nachos except with toasted pita and mint, pine nuts and pomegranate seeds sprinkled on top, or a bog-standard shepherd’s pie, cooking mince makes you feel like you’re competent at something.

As my friend, cookbook author Sarah Wilson says in her book Simplicious Flow: “Mince is cheap, easy to extend and bombproof (culinarily speaking).”

Mince came into its own during lockdown. After loo paper and hand sanitiser was stripped off the shelves, mince was the next to go. Every non-vegetarian pounced on the stuff as if they might find a Rolex watch hidden inside.

“How about we make a chow mein,” I overheard one bulk buyer enthuse to her husband. “We’ll have it with rice tonight then we can stretch it out with noodles later in the week.” He nodded compliantly – while eyeing off the steak.

Mince is often the first meat you feed babies and the last meat you can be spoonfed as you shuffle towards death. It’s regularly the last request of prisoners on death row who presumably opt for burgers or spaghetti bolognese because the ground meat is comforting and familiar.

It’s the culinary equivalent of jeans in so much as it comes in multiple iterations, warms you up and goes with everything. Even better, as many of us confront reduced incomes it’s affordable and can be padded out with vegetables, rice, couscous, pasta and pulses.

Go back 50 years and mince on toast was to Boomers what avocado is to Millennials. Yet for something so universal it causes a lot of beef.

Dan Hong, of Sydney’s famous Mr Wong restaurant, insists you should only buy mince from a butcher, and if you’re making burgers you want 50/50 chuck and brisket. Bizarrely, he warns against seasoning the meat and says you must not add herbs, breadcrumbs or ketchup. That, he says, is not a hamburger. It’s a rissole.

Antonio Carluccio, the godfather of modern Italian cooking, is equally foot-stompy about spaghetti bolognese, saying we’re all ruining it by adding herbs. He bans them and says you must have two types of meat – beef and pork – and you must serve it with tagliatelle, not spaghetti because the sauce sticks better to “flatter” shapes.

Oh Lordy, so many rules.

It’s hard enough trying to keep up with how many people I’m allowed in my house, whether I can have a haircut, and if a baby in a pram counts as one of the 10 people allowed in a cafe, without getting in a muddle over mince.

Camera IconThere’s plenty of conjecture on how bolognese should be made. Credit: istock, iStock

Yet even though my chilli con carne is award-worthy and my repertoire of recipes is longer than Paul McCartney’s back catalogue, I’m forever agonising over which mince to buy.

For homemade sausage rolls, I’m confident in my mix of pork mince with fresh ginger, grated vegetables and chilli jam, but what about meatballs? What’s the best combo? Should I be using 3, 4 or 5 star?

I’ve even researched the fat, protein and sodium percentages and while 5 star is the surely the healthiest with only 5g of fat versus 17g in 3 star, the Coles’ 4 star version is highest in protein and lowest in sodium. Also, now there’s an oversupply of the stuff thanks to all the crazy hoarders realising they’ve got 906 mince meals languishing in the freezer, should I get some premium cuts from the butcher?

As I stood chatting to Simon I desperately wanted to know why he’d gone for the 3 star. Honestly, he’s the sort who’d have his own paddock-to-plate hobby farm with cows reared on vitamin-infused grass and a bespoke butchery to hand-grind the meat.

Finally, curiosity got the better of me. “What are you cooking tonight,” I asked, indicating the mince.

“Oh,” he said, his face collapsing like mashed potato on a cottage pie. “That’s for the dog.”